


The After-Gift

by CrafterOfWords



Series: A Very Fitzier Christmas [2]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Awkward Romance, Christmas Smut, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, just good ol' smut, yeah that's pretty much it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21922552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrafterOfWords/pseuds/CrafterOfWords
Summary: Christmas Eve, James and Francis parted ways with a promise of more to come. Now the time has come to make good on that promise.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier & Commander James Fitzjames, Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames
Series: A Very Fitzier Christmas [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578832
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57





	The After-Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so this is basically - no, not basically. This is ABSOLUTELY, unashamedly, gratuitous smut just because ... hey, why not? It follows the A Gift Fit for a Captain story, but it will be very different in tone, though still fluffy and sweet. But just be prepared, if you're expecting more of the same, you're in for a surprise. Either story could and can stand on its own, so don't feel that you NEED to read this one to enjoy the first. XD Enjoy!

James woke early Christmas morning with a jolt of anticipation. It took him a few groggy moments to remember why he felt so excited, but when he did, it only made his heart beat faster. Just the night before, he had delivered his Christmas gift to Francis, and had been given a gift in return. More than that, though, he'd been given something far greater: a heated kiss and a promise of more to come. Today, he would return to Terror, after setting his affairs on Erebus in order, and share Christmas dinner with Francis. At least, he thought they would be eating dinner. He wasn't entirely certain that "eating Christmas dinner" wasn't code for some sexual activity, but it didn't really matter. The dinner, he could do without. The sex... well...

James rose and dressed for the day, taking great care to wash even more thoroughly than usual. He wanted to look and smell his very best for Francis, so he took his time brushing his hair until it was glossy and lustrous. He scrubbed his body until his skin was soft and smooth and sweetly scented, and when he was satisfied with the state of his personal hygiene, he dressed in his best uniform. He stood before his mirror and studied his reflection. He looked good, he thought, but he still felt like his insides were twisting into one giant conglomeration of knots. It had been years since he had been sexually active - even before he'd embarked on this voyage. He'd simply never had time to pursue a relationship of that kind, and it hadn't been a high priority for him so time had slipped away, leaving him feeling out of practice and very nervous. The thought of what was about to happen sent his heart leaping into his throat, and there was a constant flush on his cheeks, which had nothing to do with the Arctic air. Finally deciding he had dawdled long enough, James drew in a deep breath and stepped out of his quarters, ready to face the day. He only hoped he would be able to wait until afternoon before he went hurrying over to Terror.

The morning seemed to drag on forever, despite the good spirits of the men and the happy songs and games they shared while attending to their duties. James made sure to speak personally with Le Vesconte, as well as Doctor Stanley and the other wardroom officers, making them aware that he would be spending the evening on board Terror, taking his dinner there, and not to worry if he was late returning. Each of them assured him that all would be well while he was gone, giving their personal vows to make sure the men were kept in order and all duties were performed. James had full confidence in his officers, and was not worried in the slightest. Not that he could have mustered the energy to be worried, even if their had been need. All he could think about was getting over to the other ship, come hell or high water. He chuckled to himself at the thought. Hell? Yes, he believed they were in some circle of hell where the temperatures were freezing and infinite ice replaced fire and brimstone. As for high water... He would have given anything for open water, but that was not to be. 

By the time the first dog watch had gone up, Fitzjames had already set out across the ice. It was a very cold day, with no sun and a bitter wind that whipped right through him as if he was wearing nothing at all. Still, he hardly felt the cold, with his blood pumping hard and fast through his entire body. He tried to think of what he would say to Francis when they met, but remembering how yesterday had gone, decided that trying to make plans was pointless. He had a feeling that all thought of words would leave him when their eyes met. 

James was greeted once again by Lt. Little when he reached Terror. "Captain Fitzjames, this is an unexpected honor, sir. Two visits in as many days." 

"Yes, it is a bit unusual, isn't it?" James answered vaguely, flashing Little a smile. 

"Everything is well, I trust?" Little asked, hoping for a hint of the reason for such close visits from Erebus' captain, but James was not to be budged.

"All is well, Lieutenant," he said. Then added, "Is Captain Crozier in his quarters?"

"He is, sir," Little said. "But he's instructed us not to disturb him, on pain of lashing, so you may not want to..."

James waved him off. "It's alright, Lieutenant. He is expecting me." 

"Aye, Captain," Little said, giving a half salute and stepping back to allow James to pass unhindered. "Oh, and Merry Christmas to you, sir!" he called after Fitzjames.

James came very close to falling down the stairs on his way below deck. His head was light and felt full of cotton wool and his blood didn't seem to be quite reaching his feet. He somehow managed to descend without breaking his neck, however, and before he knew it, he was standing outside Francis' door. Again, he felt a tremor of nervous anticipation ripple through his nervous system. He breathed in deeply, trying to steady himself, and lifted his hand to knock. Before his knuckles had made contact with the heavy wooden door, however, it opened, and Francis stood before him, smiling.

The sight of him, standing there with such confidence, took his breath away. James had thought that all rational thought would leave his mind when he saw Francis. Now that the moment had come, he realized that he had been quite right. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out, so he closed it again and cleared his throat before trying again.

"Good evening, Francis," he said, cringing at the sound of his own voice. This was the same man he had seen, worked with, and spoken with countless times over the past year or more. There was nothing to be nervous about. But he was. Oh, how nervous he was! And Francis, by all appearances, looked as calm and cool as he ever had.

"James..." Francis said, nodding in greeting as he took a step back to allow James entrance. 

James stepped inside and vaguely registered Francis closing and locking the door before him. He swallowed thickly, wondering whether there were some official rules of decorum that needed following. How long must one wait before beginning to disrobe? Did they need to have conversation, or could he simply begin kissing Francis without further ado? His mind was a blur, and all he could focus on was the way Francis looked at him with that confident swagger, and the pounding of his own heart. It was so unlike him to feel nervous or flustered when facing a lover, but this was something altogether new and different.

"Thank you for the invitation, Francis," James finally said. "I trust I'm not too early?"

Francis shook his head. "Too early? You might have come first thing this morning and it would not have been too early, James. I've thought of little else since waking."

They both laughed quietly at that, and the casual intimacy of the moment put him more at ease, some of the tension slipping from his shoulders. "Neither have I," he confessed with a sheepish grin. "Had I known you were suffering the same as I, I might have come earlier." 

Francis stepped closer to him and James unconsciously sucked in a breath, his body going stiff in anticipation as the other man neared. "James, you look tense," Francis said, reaching out to place a hand on James' shoulder. "Today is to be a day of merriment and pleasure. We can not have you so full of anxiety on such a joyous occasion." He circled James, standing behind him with one hand on each shoulder and began to massage him. James felt himself relax a little more, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Francis' hands were strong and sure, and James wondered what it would be like to have those masterful hands on other parts of his body. He supposed he would find out very soon.

Not soon enough. 

"S'nice..." he said softly, allowing his neck to roll back a little as Francis' fingers worked deep into his tense muscles. "I didn't know you could do that..."

"I am a man of hidden talents, I suppose one might say," Francis said with a laugh. "I'm glad it feels good, but it's not exactly the activity I had in mind when I invited you here today, so I'll not have you falling asleep on me, James."

James let out a soft chuckle. "No chance of that," he said.

Francis took a step closer, and he could feel his chest and stomach just touching James' back. Francis' hands slowly moved down his arms, clasping and sliding over his hands, down to the tips of his fingers. Then he slipped his arms around James' waist and gently guided him back against his chest. James surrendered to Francis' guidance, melting into his hold and leaning back against him. He could feel Francis breath, warm and moist against his neck, ruffling his hair and ticking his ear. A chill swept over his whole body, sending goosebumps rising on his flesh. 

"What...exactly... _did_ you have in mind, Francis?" he asked, his voice now breathy and soft. It was a rhetorical question. Had he had the slightest doubt before, there could be no confusion now. 

"Oh, well, I could tell you, certainly," Francis whispered, his mouth now at James' ear, lips brushing the lobe. "But I think it would be far more enjoyable for me to _show_ you. Don't you?"

James shuddered and nodded. "Yes. Yes, I do," he said, his voice cracking slightly. 

Francis' hands were roaming across James' front, over his chest, around his belly, then lower... One hand moved to his hip, then down his thigh before shifting further around so his fingertips could trace his inseam. James felt positively weak in the knees, and worried that they might give out altogether. Francis' breath in his ear, his body pressed to James' back, and his hands moving with such cruel, cool slowness, were about to drive him out of his mind with need. When Francis' hand reached his groin, he gasped.

"Oh...James..." Francis said, with a gasp of his own. James knew that he was fully erect. He could feel his member throbbing insistently, straining against his trousers and longing to be touched. Francis tucked his fingers under, cradling his sac, while the heel of his palm gently rubbed up and down over his clothed arousal. 

"Francis..." he whispered - a strangled sound - but then realized he didn't know what else to say. These slow, teasing movements were the most exquisite form of torture, but he wouldn't rush this for the world. He felt Francis shift behind him, and could feel Francis' growing arousal as well, pressed against the small of his back. Where in blazes had he learned to do this? How could he possibly be so calm and confident? But, then, James had never known Francis to be afraid of anything. Melancholy, yes. Solemn, cautious, even dramatic and easy to anger, but never _afraid_. Would that _he_ could boast such an iron constitution. Yes, James had been brave in his escapades - reckless, even - but he had felt fear. His need for approval, attention, and acceptance simply outweighed his sense of self-preservation.

Francis was kissing his neck, bringing him back to the moment, his hand still rubbing slowly, each movement sending new chills cascading down his spine to coil deliciously in his core. He groaned again and, with a trembling hand, took hold of Francis' wrist, stilling him. "You will have me spending in my trousers if you continue with that," he said. He turned to face Francis, swallowing down his rising anxiety as their eyes met again. Francis' usually cool, pale eyes now looked dark with desire, though a small portion of his confidence seemed to dissipate when they met with James' equally needful gaze. With hands still trembling, James began to slip each button on Francis' uniform jacket from its hole, working with the same slow deliberation that Francis had shown moments ago. One by one, the shiny brass baubles slipped free, allowing Francis' jacket to fall open across his chest. James' hands glided up his chest, fingers splayed over his waistcoat and shirt beneath, until they reached his shoulders and slipped the jacket off of him, letting it fall, crumpled to the floor behind him. He leaned in, lips parting to kiss Francis on the lips, slow and soft, and he felt Francis' breath falter slightly. Francis' hands rose to tangle in James' hair, pulling him closer so that their mouths were fairly crushed together, the kiss deepening until they had to part from breath. 

Panting softly, Francis mirrored James' actions, unbuttoning his jacket and pushing it over his shoulders. "Good God, James, how many layers do you wear on a given day?" he murmured, his hands moving to pull open the buttons on his waistcoat. He made short work of this garment, then slid his fingers beneath the sweater beneath. 

"A man has to stay warm," James replied, his voice hoarse with desire.

"Oh, no need to worry there, James. By the time we're finished here, you will be well and truly warmed," Francis said with a smirk that made James shiver as he pulled the sweater up and over his head.

"Now, Francis, you must play fair," he scolded, looping one long finger beneath Francis' cravat and giving a soft tug. "I'll not have you undress me fully while you remain clothed." He chuckled, pulling Francis close by his cravat and kissing him again while his fingers worked the knot free and slipped the silky fabric from around his neck. Without pulling away, James reached down to find the ties holding Francis' trousers in place. Pulling the strands free, he gave the pants a shove and they fell to the floor, Francis mechanically lifting one foot, then the other to step out of them and kick them aside.

James broke the kiss with a grin, finally beginning to feel his confidence returning, by and by. With a mischievous grin, he held Francis' gaze as he sank to his knees before him. Francis was wearing long flannel undergarments, his shirt hanging low, covering his groin. James reached out and clutched at his waistband, his fingers curling in the soft fabric, warmed by Francis' precious skin. He slowly pulled the flannels over Francis' hips, past his knees, and to the floor. Without hesitation, he leaned forward to press a kiss to the inside of Francis' knee, his hands lightly running up and down his thighs, relishing in the feeling of his bare skin and the silky ginger hairs that lined it.

James felt that he might burst with his own need, but the feeling of his lips and hands against Francis' warm skin was too delicious to think about breaking away. He turned his head to kiss the other knee, then slowly began working his way up Francis' inner thigh, leaving a trail of kisses until he reached his prize. He felt Francis tense as he nuzzled at his crotch, letting the cotton hem of his shirt drape over James' head, veiling him from Francis' view. He groaned when he made contact with Francis' cock - stout and hot and solid as a rock. With excruciating slowness and tenderness, he flattened his tongue against the base of the shaft and licked a wide, wet streak to the tip.

This was, apparently, more than Francis could bear. With a deep, gravelly groan, Francis released his grip on James' hair. His hands gripped James' shirt collar and yanked him upward. Francis' face was red, his pupils fully dilated, nostrils flared. They stood there, panting softly, staring at each other for a beat before Francis walked James backward, pinning him against the wall and kissing him with a fervor that nearly sucked the breath from his lungs. It was as if someone had flipped a switch inside the Irishman; where he had been cool and calm before, there was a fire burning in his belly now. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, tugging at James' shirt, sending buttons springing off and skittering across the floor, then pulling at his pants, shoving them down around James' ankles. His fingers curled around James' ass, squeezing before running up his back and down again. His tongue was in James' mouth, tasting him - claiming him, and James welcomed it. Never in his life had he felt so wanted - so _desired._ It was the ultimate aphrodisiac, and now they were both ripping at one another's remaining garments, desperate to feel the other's skin against their own. 

Finally bared, they broke the kiss just long enough to catch their breaths before Francis was pulling James backward onto the bed. It occurred to James only now that they had not discussed the particulars of this arrangement, but he knew what he wanted: he wanted Francis inside him. "Do you have any oil?" he asked, breathless. 

"I made a special trip to the galley for the occasion," Francis panted in reply. He reached under the pillow and pulled out a small vial, brandishing it proudly like a trophy. 

"I would have you inside me, Francis. Please..." His erection was so engorged, throbbing heavily and leaking, that he wasn't sure he would last, but it didn't matter. Francis needed no coaxing. he was already pouring the oil over his fingers, slicking his prick before carefully slipping a finger inside James' opening. James gasped, pinching his eyes closed. He'd never been with a man before, and though he knew in theory how it worked, he'd never experienced it for himself. Still, the intrusive discomfort lasted only a moment as his body, desperate for stimulation, relaxed under Francis' touch. "More..." he panted. 

Francis looked duly impressed at the request, and quickly slipped in a second finger, carefully stretching the muscles that clenched around him. "I can't last, James..." he gasped, apparently just as desperate at James was, himself. 

"Then have me, damn it all. Have me, Francis!" 

Francis slipped free his fingers and positioned himself. James wasn't sure whether he was truly ready to accommodate Francis' girth, but he couldn't stand to wait any longer. He held his breath, waiting for the plunge, and then he was being opened - filled up in the most delicious way. He cried out before he could stop himself, casting a panicked glance to Francis, but Francis was too far gone to have noticed or cared. He was leaning down, his lips hot and insistent against James's mouth as his hips began to move, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as he found his rhythm. 

James felt that he was being unraveled from the inside-out. He'd never felt anything like it in his life. Francis' stomach brushed against his erection with each thrust of his hips. "Oh, God, Francis..." he groaned, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he gritted his teeth. "I'm not going to last... Francis... I think I... I'm going to..." 

James arched up off the bed, his whole body going rigid as he spilled onto his chest, tendrils of milky white splattering Francis' stomach in the process. He was so caught up in the bliss of the moment that he barely registered Francis' hips bucking faster and faster, then stuttering in a paroxysm of ecstasy as he reached his own climax, grunting and whining as he filled James with his seed.

When it was over, Francis flopped down on top of him, panting and gasping for breath. His heart was beating so hard and fast that James could feel it hammering against his own chest. He felt that he was floating on a cloud, high above the ice, gazing down at the ships below, peaceful and content. He wondered idly, for a moment, whether he might be dead.

"Francis..." he breathed. 

"Yes, James?" 

"Nothing..." 

They both chuckled, still breathless. Their bodies glistened with sweat, hair going in every direction. James could not remember ever feeling so at peace. He could practically feel the hormones flowing through his bloodstream, making him feel relaxed and utterly sated, like he could lie there forever with Francis on top of him like a heavy blanket. He ran a hand down Francis' back, cradling one firm buttock, feeling Francis flex beneath his fingers. He smiled. 

Francis pulled out and rolled to his side, sliding down onto the mattress between James and the wall, one arm flung across James' chest. James rolled onto his side as well, so they were face to face, and brushed the stray hair from Francis' face. They had just done the unthinkable. Were they to be caught, they could be hanged for it. Yet, at that moment, with Francis Crozier lying there in his arms, his breath now slow and deep, his copper lashing kissing his cheek bones, James was sure he would do it all again, and again, no matter the cost. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of Francis' nose. Francis' eyes opened, and his lips tugged into a smile. 

"Merry Christmas, Francis," James said.

Francis lifted a hand and trailed his fingertips gently along the crease running down James' face. "Merry Christmas, James," he whispered. 

James registered the fleeting thought of Christmas dinner, floating through his mind. But moments later, with his face nestled against Francis' strong chest, James Fitzjames fell fast asleep.


End file.
